


Backless black dress

by PanicintheTARDIS



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: F/M, Genderswap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-19
Updated: 2013-06-01
Packaged: 2017-12-12 08:18:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/809373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PanicintheTARDIS/pseuds/PanicintheTARDIS
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Trick! Tricky-pie, wait the fuck up!" His calls are getting more and more insistent, so Patrick stops and calls back, irritatedly: "The fuck do you want, Pete?" Just as Pete rounds the nearest corner. His eyes sparkle as he bounds over, shoving his hand in the direction of Patrick's face.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hahaha, this was so much fun to write!! Thanks so much to the amazing iamamachine who is awesome, who you should check out because she writes amazingly, and who read this and was enthusiastic and not creeped out by the gender-swap!! <3<3 Luff yuuh 5eva, beebbb <3<3

"Patrick! Dude, wait up!" Patrick hears Pete calling him on his way through the maze of corridors to the shower provided by the venue. They've just played a show and Patrick can't help but say it was a good one. Pete's been particularly handsy tonight though, so Patrick is feeling somewhat more hot under the collar than usual.

He needs a really cold shower, **_ASAP_**.

"Trick! _Tricky-pie_ , wait the fuck up!" His calls are getting more and more insistent, so Patrick stops and calls back, irritatedly: "The ** _fuck_** do you want, Pete?" Just as Pete rounds the nearest corner. His eyes sparkle as he bounds over, shoving his hand in the direction of Patrick's face.

"Look! Look what someone threw on stage for us!" As far as Patrick can see, Pete is holding two little packets, both identically pink on one end and blue on the other, with a messy scrawl, in black sharpie, of Patrick's name on one and Pete's name on the other.

"Um." Patrick hums, narrowing his eyes, and taking the one with his name on. "So what are they?" He asks, holding it between his fingers and examining it.

"I don't know, dude, but I figured it would be better if we opened them together!" Pete replies, shrugging.

"I'm not sure if this is a good idea." Patrick says, skeptical, once again, about fan presents. "Well, we can't _not_ open them!" Pete says, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips, before pulling them into the usual, full-blown, horsey grin.

"Okay,  ** _fine_** ," Patrick concedes, "but you first! Just in case it, like, **explodes**  or something!"

"Thanks, dude, it's good to know that you care!" Pete deadpans, face serious for a second, before the grin fixes itself back again, making Patrick grin in response. He has always admired how well that smile manages to turn Pete from just some grungy-looking dude, covered in tattoos with kohl-rimmed eyes, into a kind and occasionally mischievous guy who is actually a great listener and would do anything for the people he cares about- not that he wasn't still covered in tattoos with kohl-rimmed eyes- but still, Pete has the sort of smile that seems to change his appearance completely. It also lights up his deep, chocolate brown eyes, not that Patrick has been looking, _obviously._

" _Dude!_ " Pete exclaims, as he, not-so-carefully, tears the wrapper of his little packet open, revealing a little heart shaped thing with the same pink and blue colour scheme. "It looks like some kind of candy." And without further ado, he pops it into his mouth and crunches it, thoughtfully, before: "Ew! Ew! _Oh God, ew_!"

Patrick isn't surprised at Pete's reaction. He has a good reason for his scepticism about food-related fan presents because the majority of it is either poisoned, just plain gross, or containing some sort of human DNA. (Panic! found that out the hard way... _**Never eat fan cookies!**_ ) Patrick has cleverly managed to avoid any unfortunate incidents with anything like that, Pete, on the other hand, hasn't. Pete being Pete has had more that his fair share of fan-related disasters, but he _still_  hasn't learned his lesson. (Patrick's always trying to convince himself that he wants Pete to change, but honestly he wouldn't have him any other way.)

"That was fucking disgusting!" Pete grimaces. "Why would a fan give us something like that?"

"I don't know, Pete, but there's no way that I'm eating my one." Patrick smirks, tucking the little packet into his pocket anyway, just for the memories. Touching his jeans reminds Patrick of how much he really needs a shower. He wrinkles his nose in disgust because they're damp with sweat and his skin is starting to itch. He can't even wait to get to the hotel.

"Well, that was slightly less exciting than I thought it was going to be." Pete pouts, and Patrick is just about to ask: _what did you think was going to happen? Did you expect to fucking **shrink** , Alice-In-Wonderland style?_, when Patrick almost sees the thought pop into Pete's head, his pout eradicated by a devilish smirk and accompanied by a pair of gleaming eyes.

"Y'know, _Pattycakes_ ," he pauses dramatically, leaning forwards, "I really need a shower, and you look like you could do with one, too. Why waste time and water when we can have one **_together_** , huh?" Pete says, knowingly, with an exaggerated wink. Patrick feels his eyes widen and his face burst into flames all over again. The temperature of his face, at this point, is **_r_** ** _oughly reaching the temperatures of the surface of the fucking sun, or_ _something_**. So as not to embarrass himself anymore, he gives Pete what he hopes to be an unimpressed expression, then he turns on his heel and walks briskly towards the shower, not stopping until the door is locked securely behind him.

Leaning back against it, Patrick frowns and thinks: _fuck Pete and his stupid, sexy, stupid, gorgeous, sexy, stupid face_.


	2. Chapter 2

"Hey there, Rickster." Pete purrs when Patrick picks up the phone the next evening. They've had the day off and Patrick has spent the entire time asleep in the actual, real, _not-a-shitty-bunk-but-an-actual-real-hotel-bed_. He can't speak on behalf of his best friend though, knowing that the amount of time Pete ever spends asleep is probably, at most, a quarter of the time Patrick does.

 

"Hey, Pete," he greets him, rolling his eyes pointlessly, and ignoring the even-more-sexual-than-usual tone of Pete's voice, "what have you been up to all day?"

 

"Wouldn't you like to know!" Pete chuckles. 

 

Patrick's not sure how Pete manages to make even a chuckle sound sexual, but that is kinda one of Pete's trademarks, so he should probably have stopped wondering about it by now.

 

"If you really want to know, you should come over to my room and find out!" Despite being on the phone and not having an actual visual, Patrick is completely capable of imagining the eyebrow-waggle Pete uses to accompany that sentence.

"I'll pass, thanks." Patrick really would like to go and see for himself, if it means getting into Pete's pants, but he knows he shouldn't really. Pete's just joking after all, right? _Hmm..._  


 

"Are you sure, dude? Something pretty cool has happened and I think you might like to see it." Pete's tone is still sexual and Patrick can't help but get curious. "Can't you just tell me, Pete?" Patrick sighs, gives up, and rolls out of bed, knowing full well that there was never any contest and that Pete had already won. 

"Where would the fun be in that, Tricky?" And he hangs up. 

 

Patrick can't be bothered to change out of his dumb pyjamas to go over to Pete's room because it's just down the hallway. He figures Pete won't mind, seeing as, to Patrick's endless embarrassment, he's seen it all before anyway.

 

As he knocks on the door, Patrick feels kind of reckless and wonders whether he'd regret finally taking Pete up on his continual offer to fuck, but before he can make his mind up, the door opens and Patrick can't stop his jaw from dropping. Standing in front of him is the most beautiful woman he's ever seen. She's a good bit taller than Patrick, thanks to the expensive-looking heels she has on her feet. The backless, black cocktail dress she's wearing is also rather expensive-looking. It fits her perfectly, fitted on top with rather a lot of cleavage on show, and sticking to her rounded hips before floating down to just above her knees. Patrick tears his eyes away from her body and up to her face where his jaw, which he's only just figured out how to shut, falls open again, at the sight of her tell-tale, big, toothy grin and sparkling brown eyes, circled with lots of eyeliner.

 

Patrick's eyes widen, he intakes sharply, and then stutters out a few incomprehensible syllables before he can get his mouth to form the word he's looking for:  " ** _Pete?!_** "

 

"What's up, Mr. Sexypants!" The woman - _Pete_ \- winks, opens the door wider, and then pulls Patrick inside. 

 

After locking the door, Pete turns around and puts his hands on his hips, striking a model-like pose.

"So? Whaddaya think, Lunchbox?" 

"Um-" Patrick's brain is still incapable of putting together any sentences, too preoccupied by the 

fact that the room smells strongly of female-sex. He feels his lips moving, opening and closing, bumbling _um'_ s and _ah'_ s, his eyebrows hidden in his hairline, his eyes still wide and taking it all in, from the dark, flat-ironed, elbow-length hair to the dainty feet tucked into a pair of silver stilettos.

 

He finally manages to get his neurones together enough to be able to converse: "Um, yeah. You're looking..." _gorgeous, hot, beautiful, perfect, sexy_ , "...good."

 

"I'm glad you think that." The woman says, and leaves the " _keep going, dickface"_ unsaid, transmitting it, instead, with his eyebrows.

 

"So, how exactly did this happen?" The younger man manages to ask, figuring that bluntness is probably the best way to affront the situation.

"Honestly, Rick, I'm not sure, I just woke up like this. It's pretty cool though, huh?" Pete isn't freaking out nearly as much as Patrick thinks that he would be. 

"But where did you get all the clothes and shit from?" Pete's very dressed up, so Patrick couldn't help but wonder.

"Oh, I went out and picked them up earlier. I don't know how long this is going to last, but I sure as fuck am going to make the most of it! I mean, look, dude!" Pete throws his arms in the air,

 

"I have tits!"

 

"Yeah, man, that's pretty awesome." Patrick still doesn't really know what to say. His head is still not really computing the fact that he'd come to Pete's room all psyched up to jump guy-Pete's bones, and found Pete as a ridiculously attractive member of the opposite sex. _What now?_  It's technically not a problem, seeing as Patrick likes to consider himself pansexual, which is really just a way of saying bisexual, just focusing more on love than on sex, but it's still pretty fucking unexpected.

 

"It's totally weird though, man. I mean, being turned on as a girl is like the weirdest thing ever!" Pete interrupts Patrick's chain of thought, conversationally, shaking his head. Patrick is too frazzled to notice the audacious twinkle in the woman's eyes.

 

"It's, like, this-" he pauses, brows furrowing, and looks down at his body, "'-this tingly feeling. It comes in waves, up my thighs and down my stomach." He demonstrates, running a finger down from underneath his breasts all the way to the ruffle of fabric that gathers over his hips. Patrick watches as Pete continues running his fingertip down his abdomen, feeling slightly awkward and more and more turned on with every second that passes. He looks down and flushes with embarrassment at the sight of his obviously hard cock in full view through his flimsy pyjama pants. _Fuck._  


 

Pete looks up and catches Patrick looking at himself, follows the line of his eyes, and notices what Patrick's doing his best to hide. Pete's eyes widen, his pupils dilate, and he smirks. All the pretences and bravado fall away abruptly as he finally takes the opportunity Patrick's been giving him since they first met back in 2002. He struts over and takes Patrick by the hips, he guides them over to the bed where he pushes Patrick down and then straddles his thighs.

 

"This is finally happening, huh, gorgeous?" Pete's grin is tainted with smugness. 

 

"Finally!" Patrick murmurs, pushing himself up on his elbows to catch Pete's lips with his own. They're sticky and taste bitter from the lipgloss, but considering dude-Pete was wearing lipgloss the only other time they'd kissed anyway, Patrick doesn't really mind. If anything, it makes him feel slightly nostalgic.

 

They kiss until they're both breathless, and Patrick's head is filled with white noise, nonsensical whispers of delight which are only broken through by the whimpers Pete's making. Those little sounds that vibrate against Patrick's lips.

 

"Patrick." Pete breathes his name and it sounds like worship, his hands roaming. Pete doesn't call Patrick by his actual name often, he prefers nicknames, but in this case, Pete is probably slightly too preoccupied to try and come up with a nickname he hasn't used yet today.

 

"Less clothes," Pete grunts. Patrick would chuckle at the primitivity of it, and how strange it is hearing such a masculine sound from such a feminine body, but he's slightly too lost in the moment. He'll find the time to be amused about it later.

 

Patrick shucks off his pyjamas easily enough, and then clambers back onto the bed to watch Pete. As soon as he notices the eyes on him, Pete slows things down and starts exaggerating his movements, making it into almost a strip-tease. He unzips the dress from the back, and the top falls down, uncovering the black lace of an expensive looking bra. Patrick wasn't expecting a bra, if he's honest, seeing as dude-Pete doesn't even bother with boxers. When the dress falls around his ankles, Patrick is left with a view of Pete in a bra and panties, _not something he ever thought he'd see_. Pete then hooks the dress around one foot and flings it off, so it flies across the room and lands behind the tv, before freeing his boobs, slipping off the g-string, and joining Patrick on the bed; Pete is smooth and shaven, not how Patrick prefers, but still, he's not complaining. He is, in fact, painfully hard and leaking when Pete pushes his legs apart and crawls between them. He can't help but reach out and cup one of Pete's beautiful breasts as their lips press back together, Pete groaning as he starts to grind against Patrick's cock. Patrick runs his calloused thumb over Pete's nipple and can almost see the frisson of delight that sparks down the woman's spine.

 

He's so hard, at this point, he feels like his head is going to explode, but he can't bring himself to stop grinding against Pete's wetness because the noises he's getting from him are so fucking empowering. In fact, he makes an involuntary noise of protest when Pete suddenly pulls away to look him in the eye. 

"Fuck me, Patrick." His voice is already wrecked, but it somehow still sounds as smooth as warm honey, flowing past Patrick's ears and straight to his dick. Pete's chest, still adorned with blue-green thorns, is glistening and heaving as he reaches across, tits resting on Patrick's chest, as he rummages in the bed-side table drawer for a condom. 

 

"Let me show off for a second," he says when he sits back on his heels and removes the condom from its foil packet. Patrick tries to respond, but he's lost for words, cut off when Pete leans over and carefully rolls the condom onto Patrick's dick with his mouth, before leaning back with a triumphant smirk. Just that small touch -that slide against the back of Pete's throat-  is enough to drive Patrick insane; instead of words, he resorts to kisses again, hoping to get his point across. He figures the moans being ripped from his chest are enough, as he watches Pete lower himself onto his dick, watching as Pete's pedicured toes curl when it slides into his body. 

 

This isn't really how Patrick had thought it would be, -him and Pete's first time- it's better. Pete on top, doing what he wants with Patrick underneath, marvelling in the sensation and trying so hard not to come too fast. He wants Pete's experience to be just as good as, -or even better than-, his, so he manages to hold off coming until he feels Pete's tell-tale clenching and warm, trickling, wetness. Pete's head is thrown back in ecstasy, tits in the air, stomach and thigh muscles twitching, not even trying to capture the whore-ish moans from escaping his mouth. 

 

As cliché as it might sound, Patrick's pretty sure their bodies fit together like two pieces of a puzzle. Or an even better metaphor would be like several notes in a piece of music that make up the perfect harmony; an orchestra of strings being played together over and over, maybe with a variating rhythm, fastslowfastslowfast, the intensity building until it hits a barrier and explodes with the reverberating crash of a cymbal. It blocks out your mind, your thoughts, your everything. It's all you are, were, or ever will be, compressed into one agonisingly perfect second, that's over way too soon.  

 

Pete  collapses onto Patrick's chest, still twitching erotically on his dick. The man tentatively tries to remove his best friend's body from on top of him, but Pete moves his hand to grip Patrick's forearm : _not yet_. They stay like that for an indefinite amount of time, until Pete finally rolls onto the other side of the bed, allowing Patrick to get up and fetch a washcloth to relieve himself and Pete of the stickiness. 

 

The clock still displays a relatively early hour, but Patrick could always sleep more. He lays down on the bed, and Pete snuggles instinctively into his side, murmuring a happy-noise. The two puzzle pieces are reunited. 

 

"We should do this again sometime," Pete looks up at Patrick from where he's resting his head on his chest, a smile on his lips, and severely smudged eye-makeup that's doing nothing but intensifying the complacent look in his cocoa eyes. 

 

Patrick makes an affirmative noise, and is surprised at how quick, after that, the woman's breath slows down, drifting into unconsciousness; he can't help but let himself also be overtaken by the feeling. He slips into the clutches of drowsiness, all of his senses delightfully bombarded with _Pete, Pete and Pete_.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, stay tuned for more chapters!!! If you enjoyed it, kudos me, bitchezz!!! <3<3


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